Good Grief!

Jake doesn't usually receive a lot of "blog time". Since the arrival of the 2-legged children, Jake is pretty low on the totem pole around here. If he could talk, I'm sure he would remind me of the days when I treated him like a first-born son. Jake recently celebrated his 5th birthday and what an eventful week he has had. He stayed at a local kennel while we were out of town for Thanksgiving. When I picked him up, they told me he had a cut on his paw pad. No one knew what happened, they were really sorry, if it didn't get better someone should probably take a look at it, blah, blah, blah. Oh, and let's not forget the best part, "good luck keeping the bandage on, because we've tried to keep one on and it just keeps slipping off. "
Now, if this were a human child, I would be freaking out. If Luke's preschool teacher handed him over to me with an injury and said, "sorry, don't know how this happened. By the way, my first aid skills stink and I couldn't find a band aid. So, if he doesn't get better you should maybe get somebody to look at him." Can you imagine the outrage?
I'm just a teeny, tiny bit wound up about this one.
Wait. It gets better.
When I signed Jake in at the kennel, I purchased a $5 healthy pet guarantee. In plain english, this means that if Jake gets hurt at the kennel, they will cover his expenses at the veterinary clinic. It scared me that they even offered this policy, but I was all over it. So, when I picked Jake up and the oh-so-informed attendant happily charged my Visa card for an obscene amount of money, she also acknowledged that the guarantee was in place and they would "totally cover" my expenses.
Jake's 20 minutes at the vet, including bandage application and amoxicillin, was $55. When I called to ask for reimbursement, these kennel people are suddenly not so helpful. Suddenly they have decided Jake arrived at the kennel with his foot cut open. They don't cover any pre-existing conditions. Grrrrr!
When I was a kid, my grandfather was forever bent over his trusty typewriter, drafting letters of complaint to all kinds of people who had demonstrated poor customer service. He once broke a toilet 3 times trying to install it and 3 times returned it to the store. Of course it was the toilet's fault that it kept cracking. This guy was good.
So, I did something a few minutes ago that would make my Grampie proud. I sat down at my trusty laptop and wrote a very tersely worded letter to the kennel, requesting reimbursement. I don't know if it will do any good, but I certainly feel better.
I am a bit sarcastic today because I am so irritated. On a more serious note, it has occurred to me that it is so important to keep your word and honor your commitments. As a consumer, I am so disappointed that I have encountered such poor customer service. But, more importantly, as a parent, I am reminded of the values of honor and integrity. We need to raise children who hold these values in high esteem...and possess strong communication skills so they can write tersely worded letters.

Kicking the Habit

First I must confess that we allowed this habit to fester for far too long. But we couldn't take the whining, the pleading, the tears. I would stand in the aisle at the store and tell myself I was crazy for giving in to his demands. Then I would give in and enable his behavior.
I am proud to say it has all come to an end.

NO MORE PACIFIERS FOR LUKE!

It's about time, you say. It's only been three and a half years! That's 3 and a half years of naps, car rides and bedtimes where he lulled himself to sleep with his delightful "binky". No going back in his room for drinks of water, endless bed time stories. There was very little whining and fussing. Just in the bed with his binky and lovey (security blanket...we'll probably wrestle that one from his grip right before he steps on the school bus for the first time).
We purchased his last set of pacifiers last Sunday. He chewed holes in them by Tuesday. I was a bit irritated. So, I told him the trash man took his binkies away because there were holes in them and they didn't work anymore. That actually went over pretty well. He only cried one time, but he has slept through his naps and at night without any problems.
Now, frequent flyers here at the blog (all 10 of you) may recall a previous post where I forced him to walk away from a certain red car that he insisted he MUST have. I promised he could have one as soon as he gave up the binkies. Do you know that's the first thing he remembered after sleeping through the night without his pacifier? Last night we all piled in the minivan and went to Fred Meyer so he could select the much-coveted Lightnin' McQueen. That car makes the most obnoxious noises. Such noises provided the background for our breakfast this morning. Steve looked at me and said, "better than having a binky, eh?"

Post-Op Recovery

Today was a big day. The kind of day where you get to the end and you ask, "did this really happen?" After several months of patching, the doctor felt Luke's vision was 20/20 and we could proceed with surgery to correct the alignment issues. Steve and I overslept a smidge and didn't get up until 4:45. That's a.m., in case you wondering. Such slothfulness...the day's half over by 4:30. Anyway, we scooped Luke out of bed and trudged to the hospital in Bellevue. Let's give a shout out to all those crazy people actually commuting to their jobs at that hour of the day. Ick. Anywho, Luke was a great patient and went off to the OR with a big smile on his face. He even had the nurses giggling. The doctor was surprised to find that his original diagnosis was incorrect and rather than slicing a tendon and inserting a spacer, he just "adjusted" the muscles so Luke's eye will align properly. It isn't an exact science, so one has to hope that when the swelling goes away, his eyes will be "equally" aligned. The doctor was excellent and the whole experience was very positive. In fact, he just called me at home to check on Luke. Shocking.

Meanwhile, one among us is having a birthday today. The big Four-O. My parents kept Andy for us and Luke was sleeping soundly, so Steve was able to open his presents without any little helpers. Steve was a good sport about spending a portion of his birthday at the hospital. Some might see it beats working...

Trick or Treat

We were invited to a Halloween party at Jack's house. Luke had shunned his costume all day, didn't want anything to do with being a fireman. Once Jack donned his pirate ensemble, Luke was ready to negotiate. There's nothing like a little peer pressure to motivate a 3 year old. We didn't trick or treat last year because it was more fun to answer the door and hand out treats. I didn't know what to expect from our little fireman, but he followed Jack and his posse all over the neighborhood. Even when he started to get tired and his bag of treats became too heavy, he refused to give in. I think he was quite relieved when we made it back to Jack's house. He insisted that the treats were his, but he didn't seem to want to eat any. I was sure that he would forget all about them by morning. Unfortunately, the first thing he asked for after breakfast was a treat. What's wrong with a bite of snickers at 8am?